Piano Man
by pussycatwithattitude
Summary: A series of moments in the servants' hall. Anna and Bates reminisce, steal some of Mrs Patmore's chocolate biscuits, begin a piano lesson and also make a promise about their future. Set in the months after Series 1, Episode 5.


**A/N:** I'm fully aware that Bates may have never played the piano, but it's something that came to mind and has stuck. His stoicism has always left me wondering if he has any hidden talents, and how different his life would have been before arriving at Downton and even before his time at war. This story has been sitting in my documents since the very start of the end of last year, so I do feel as though I should post it. Thanks to **testship** for looking through this for me, and prompting to post. It's my first dive into Anna/Bates fanfiction, so please let me know your thoughts.

**Disclaimer: **I wish I owned _Downton Abbey _and these characters, but sadly I don't. They belong to Julian Fellowes, ITV and Carnival and whoever else played a part in Bates and Anna's heartbreak.

**Piano Man**

Anna May Smith had always enjoyed watching the one who played the piano in the corner of the servants' hall, listening to the sounds resonating from the musical instrument and sharing in the joyous laughter it created. Anna had always envied the way William's fingers would move across the black and white keys, and would so often wish that she had been given the opportunity to learn at a younger age. Anna could recall there being a piano of some sort in her school; however at the age of ten she had been more focused on appreciating and enjoying the music with her friends, rather than learning about how to play for herself.

It was only now that she fully appreciated a person's ability to learn to play a musical instrument. Anna assumed it would be like reading a book once mastered, to have the ability to embrace another man's creation and to feel and enjoy each and every note, each and every strife the creator placed into his work. To Anna, the greatest moments in reading was when she came across a certain phrase that she had once believed to be a personal matter of her own, but only to learn that it had been a universal truth and which had caused her to further contemplate over how many more people would share these same longings as she. Here she was, along with the rest of the servants, listening to William playing the piano and feeling the same joy that others would feel all around the world.

It was these types of connections that Anna felt the happiest about. Music brought together all kinds of different people – even Miss O'Brien would let her lips rise into a smile on an occasion or two – whether they be rich or poor, upstairs or downstairs. The servants' ball at Christmas was another example of this. For the last few years, Anna had thoroughly enjoyed the occasion, and had let herself dance with the people she spent her entire life around whilst surrounded by beautiful music. Anna had even shared a thirty second dance with Lord Grantham one year before the old footman George had swept her onto the dance floor, although with the necessary grace and decorum that, without, would result in Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson shooting razor sharp glares in their direction simultaneously.

Just as Anna continued to think about dancing at the servants' ball and just who she would like to dance with this year, the man in question quietly made his presence known beside her, reaching his arm across her body in order to retrieve the jug of water in the middle of the table.

Anna's eyes flickered up to meet his, pulling herself from her reverie, and as soon as they met there was an eruption in her insides. She felt and heard her breath hitch, although it was discrete enough for only the two of them to notice.

They shared a secret smile, and Mr Bates looked at her warmly before diverting his gaze back to the water jug.

It had been a month since the flower show, a month since Anna had confessed her feelings for him. Since then, whilst their friendship had not deteriorated, Mr Bates had been careful to avoid any situation that would drastically change the nature of their friendship, so to speak. At least until he could arrange his own affairs. He knew that, with him in this current predicament, speaking with Anna about anything concerning love and a romantic attachment would be considered improper, and if they were caught in any kind of situation discussing their emotions, or acting upon them, both Anna and himself would no doubt be on the wrong side of Mrs Hughes, and perhaps even the doors of Downton Abbey.

So, for now, he kept his distance. It was lucky that the two of them had developed such a close friendship in the year he had spent at Downton because no one questioned their late nights together in the servants' hall, reading to each other and discussing their ideas about the books. It had been a regular occurrence ever since the first months after his Lordship's decision that he could stay – although they had met briefly in the library a couple of times – and whilst Mr Carson had once mentioned to him about the matter, the older man knew that their time together was firmly based on a friendship that had been sought only days into his arrival. John Bates would openly admit to himself that those stolen moments downstairs were often the highlight of his day, even if sometimes they were difficult to obtain. To flicker his eyes upwards from the chosen book and see Anna's face fixed upon him, her eyes and ears eager to watch and hear him read aloud would always warm his heart, and when she read to him, although that seemed to be becoming less regular as she always insisted he read and he rarely had the heart to refuse her, he found that the various accents she would place on the characters was the most delightful thing to have graced his ears.

John had found that he most enjoyed listening to her reading poetry. He had been keen to avoid John Donne, although Keats then happened to become one of their favourites, most notably Anna's recital of _To Autumn _which had formerly led to a discussion about the seasons, and the gardens, and once a lovely afternoon had fallen upon them and coincided with some free time, the two had walked around the grounds and discussed aspects of the poem again together. Emily Dickinson had also become a fond favourite, although John was eager to indulge in a wider range of poets in the future. He knew that Anna had borrowed Lord Grantham's copy of Shakespeare's sonnets on many an occasion – the traces of dog-ears were, in no doubt, a result of her fond readings and he had once teased her for lack of suitable bookmarks and how his Lordship would react if he saw and found out it was her – so he became steely determined that he would find that in the coming weeks and make that a topic for their evenings together.

"Mr Bates?"

A voice pulled him from his thoughts and he instantly looked up to see Daisy looking at him expectantly.

Through his look of complete bewilderment, it became clear that he had not been listening to her, therefore the young kitchen maid repeated her question, "Would you like some tea? Anna and I were going to make some."

His face turned to fully view Anna, who was about to rise from her seat. Anna placed a hand on his shoulder, although discretely, but made it look as though she was steadying herself. She smiled at him. "Don't worry, I know how you like it."

"It seems you may know a lot of my secrets."

His response made her giggle lightly, the beautiful sounds filling his ears; however she left a moment later to make the tea.

Before he knew it, John had fallen back into his reverie whilst watching Anna walking down the hallway towards the kitchens. His appreciation for the housemaid, he knew, stemmed from much more than friendship, and he longed so greatly for a day where he could declare his love openly, even hold her hand without fear of being seen and reprimanded. Perhaps even a time when the two of them could steal kisses in the courtyard or in the kitchens and, if caught, only laugh lightly and blush, only to know that upon returning to their home they could continue much further.

He had imagined a life with Anna, whether that be when he was alone at the table or on the edge of sleep in his bedroom – even when he was carrying out his duties.

"Here you go, Mr Bates." Daisy's voice broke his reverie once more, and he found her gaze just as Anna was taking her seat again beside him.

"Thank you, Daisy."

John took the cup of tea and saucer and placed it down before him, letting it cool a little before drinking. One discrete glance sideways at Anna's missing cup told him that she was, as usual, drinking her own tea while it was still steaming hot. He had promptly discovered that she liked it that way, and it was little perks of her character such as this that he found the most interesting and endearing. Just like he discovered she only liked half a teaspoon of sugar in her tea, because that extra half was just _too _much, or that she would eat her food separately, carrots first and then her peas if Mrs Patmore had cooked them. Anna would always eat the majority of her meat and potatoes first, but she would just leave a small portion to go back to at the end of her meal, wanting to save the best for beginning and last. Bates loved her little quirks.

But he loved her bigger quirks too. He admired the way she would stand up for her friends and colleagues; that she would be compassionate but at the same time would not suffer fools gladly. She offered sentiment, compassion and a shoulder to cry on, but she would always be one of the first to offer them critical advice, to advise them to stop moping about and to put whatever quarrel behind them. He would often look back, in these thoughtful moments, of his first few months at Downton and the number of times he had mistaken her care and compassion for pity. He smirked now upon this realisation – that she had never judged him or pitied him because of his injury; she had only offered him friendly support, his life jacket in a sea of prejudice he had found upon first arriving. Even Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes had doubted his capabilities at first, only Anna had presided and actually spoken to defend him. John guessed that it was in those moments, when their friendship had begun to grow so beautifully, that he had also begun feeling a sort of kinship towards the head housemaid. He had attempted to block these feelings, to stop them from surfacing – he still tried, aware of his situation – but the tenacity and, really, his unwillingness to quell them had left him in the position he was in now.

Completely and utterly in love.

Late night readings and discussions in the servants' hall had turned to longer stares, eye contact that was unwilling to break. Walks back from church with the others had turned to Anna slowing her pace to keep up with him and letting the others go ahead. Coincidental meetings in Lord Grantham's library had turned into planned meetings, rifling through books they could read together, him choosing books that he thought she would like, and she choosing ones she had read that he, surprisingly, had not. Running into each other coincidentally in the grounds had turned into prearranged meetings, her wanting to show him parts of the grounds that had emerged in their conversations when his curiosity was piqued. Inquisitive questions about his life as a boy or her life as a child on her parent's farm had turned into detailed discussions about their histories and their families; small moments remembered from their childhood that each could relate to. Late night meetings in the courtyard to catch a last breath of fresh air before bed had turned to hourly discussions, her chastising him for his occasional tendency to smoke, teasing that he may begin to prefer the company of Thomas and Miss O'Brien, and him pointing out the stars he had once learnt the names of in books.

"Play us something else, William?" John heard Anna pleading as the music stopped, and at her request the majority of the room urged him further.

John turned his head around and caught her eye discretely. He smirked, signalling that he was about to tease her for some reason or another. She simply watched him closely. "You like the music, don't you?"

"You know I do," Anna smiled.

"Perhaps we could pl–"

John was interrupted as Mr Carson entered the room, coughing to make himself known. The music stopped abruptly as everyone stood politely, although his eyes were only directed at Mr Bates.

"His Lordship has asked for you, Mr Bates."

The announcement caused John to stand up immediately with a nod, taking hold of his cane and balancing on it as he manoeuvred himself around the table. He cast a look downwards at Anna, and she looked up at him and smiled before whispering, "Don't worry, I'll keep it warm for you."

John smiled at her thoughtfulness, his infamous half smile that, although oblivious to him, Anna adored.

He then went on his way upstairs to see Lord Grantham, leaving Anna behind in the hall as the notes of the piano once again began to strain through the corridors.

* * *

When he returned three quarters of an hour later, the hall was empty. John scorned himself though. Should he have expected Anna to still be down here? Of course not, she must be exhausted after all. But before he could turn and head upstairs to his own bedroom, his eyes caught sight of two cups and saucers on the table, steam rising from the liquid which had evidently only been made a few minutes ago.

John frowned, but nevertheless approached the table.

The saucers were placed in _their _places, and as far as he knew no one else would be awake at this hour.

Suddenly, a light pair of footsteps caught his attention, and John turned just in time to see Anna. He smiled weakly and she simply shrugged in return. "It got cold."

"So you made us another?"

"Well, I wasn't ready to sleep just yet, and I was sure you'd come back down." He saw in her eyes a sort of longing as she spoke and it brought warmth to his lonely, battered heart.

"Careful, if Mrs Patmore sees you with them she'll hang you by your toes in the courtyard." John motioned towards the plate in Anna's hands which she had covered with four chocolate-coated biscuits.

Anna smiled at his comment and walked towards the table, placing the plate down on the table, "Oh, you know me, I can find a way to squirm out of anything." Anna sat down in her chair and watched him closely as he moved beside her.

"Concocting your next evil plan? Perhaps you should leave a trail of biscuit crumbs from here to Miss O'Brien's door." Bates teased her, referring to the time when they had hidden Lord Grantham's box together.

"You know me, Mr Bates. Fight fire with fire." Anna smiled, taking a sip of her tea.

After a moment or two of silence, John spoke up. "So, do you have any of Lady Mary's mending to do tonight?"

"No, have you any?"

"Surprisingly, no. It certainly makes a nice change."

Anna smiled shyly, aware that the two of them had little to _discuss _now. She therefore adopted the approach of looking down at her intertwined fingers, fiddling with them instead of meeting his gaze.

"Do you have a book to read?" John implored.

Anna looked up and smiled weakly, although her eyes told him no.

"Then we shall have to make do just talking," Bates smiled. He turned and took a sip of his tea with it having cooled a little now. But out of the corner of his eye he watched Anna. He watched as she lifted her head slightly and continued to avert her gaze sideways, her lips twitching as though she almost longed to say something but felt restrained from doing so.

Deciding to leave the issue and wait until she felt comfortable speaking to him, John turned and continued to drink the tea with his left hand and reached across with his right to take a biscuit before placing it down on his saucer.

However, John jumped as something warm suddenly enveloped his hand. Looking down he saw Anna's hand feebly take hold of his fingers, an action which he assessed quickly before looking up at her. He assumed that she was not completely confident to take his hand fully, however her slight grip on his hand was a sign that she needed his touch.

"Actually…" Anna mumbled.

John looked up and met her eyes, and he almost gasped as he saw her eyes a little red. As he sought to comfort her as best as he could, John protectively curled his fingers around her grip, letting his thumb brush against her skin. He smiled at her feebly, inviting and encouraging her to speak her mind.

Anna was in the process of taking a steadying breath.

"Mr Bates…"

He could hear her voice breaking. Hell, he could almost feel it himself! His heart was breaking at the sight, and he wished – as he so often did during these times – that he was free to be her husband, to love her as he so desperately did. John had discovered that, during times like this, Anna felt at her most confident but also her most vulnerable. On some nights she would smile and laugh, and they would share with each other their happiest and most joyous moments without a care in the world. However, on other nights their moments alone would be poignant and a sombre air would linger around them, their thoughts only surrounding the obstacles that blocked their path to being together eternally.

Slowly, although in no doubt hesitantly or with less fervour, John leant across and pressed his lips to her forehead. For all of his thoughts about keeping his distance, one look at an uncomfortable Anna caused all of that to wash away. He longed to comfort her, especially because it was him who caused her this pain.

The sweet sound of Anna's sigh caused his lips to remain in that place, and as she shifted to lean further into his loving caress he felt himself shiver.

"I'm sorry for all the pain I must cause you."

Even in her weakest moments, Anna would not allow him to take the blame. She shook her head, although was still unable to move from the warmth and the safety of his touch. "No…"

John decided to say nothing more in this moment, instead choosing to stay there in the exact same position, revelling in the feeling of the woman he loved leant against him, feeling safe in the shield of love that Anna provided him with.

* * *

It had been over a month now since Anna had sobbed gently, silently, on his shoulder, since their tender moment in the servants' hall, and since then their time together had been sporadic and hectic at best. Lord Grantham had decided to visit some friends in London which evidently meant that his valet must travel with him, and a week in London had then turned into two; threatening to turn into three. To find a moment alone in the hall even since then had become difficult, and Lady Mary had taken to changing later at night in the past couple of weeks, therefore Anna was forced to remain awake until later at night, and once she had finished her duties she would be either too tired to stay up and would just head straight to bed.

It was the first evening in weeks that Mr Bates had spent alone downstairs. Most of the servants had gone into the village for a local charity fundraiser, however John had excused himself. The sky above did not look promising, and the thought of returning to Downton later that night in November's stormy conditions did not appeal to a man who struggled at the best of times walking on the country roads. All of the servants had gone except for Mr Carson, and he had taken to his room a while ago to polish the silver.

The piano in the corner of the room caught John's eye.

Curiosity overwhelmed him, and he walked across to the instrument, letting his hands run across the cover before he lifted the lid to reveal the keys. Sitting himself down a few moments later, he let his hands rest across the keys. John pressed down on them quietly, aware that Mr Carson was fairly close by, but soon he had begun playing a soft tune from memory and very soon after had become lost in his own musical reverie.

He began to play one favourite tune by heart, recalling in that moment the lost memories of his past – most of which he had forgotten purposefully, because most of the memories he held, at least since the war, were not ones which he cared to recall in a hurry. John had never learnt to play the piano seriously, however during the times he had spent in local pubs – and those had steadily increased after the war – the musical instrument in the corner of the room had slowly begun to catch his eye, and one quiet afternoon one of the barmaids had taken to showing him one of the simpler scales.

When he had started working in a pub some years later, when he had first left Vera and was in need of some money, he would take to the piano a little more often. When the pub was quiet and the local men were in need of some cheer, he would go, sit down and begin to play. John had by no means been a rare talent, but he knew enough to play a few tunes without mistakes and it would often bring life to their faces when elsewhere was all sullen.

Mr Carson must have heard the tunes but decided not to interfere. John continued to play the tune, humming along to it blissfully and revelling in these moments alone. He would not have even considered partaking in such an activity with the rest of the servants here. Anna, perhaps, but no one else. Just as John's thoughts strayed onto the housemaid – her delightful voice, the elegance of her movements and the tenderness of her smile – a small voice came from behind him. The exact same voice his thoughts had been captured by moments before.

"You never told me you could play."

John was surprised to hear her voice, but he did not jump. Instead, a smile rose to his lips and he turned around partly. His eyes implored for her to approach him, and she did.

Anna walked forward and came to stand beside him, looking over his shoulder to see his hands resting on the keys.

"It's not something I often like to disclose."

Anna could immediately sense that there was more to his comment. She could see in his eyes that there was more information to disclose, presumably something surrounding his past, and through listening to his tone of voice she could determine that this was not all.

Therefore, Anna simply smiled.

"I thought you'd still be in the village," John commented, eager to avert the conversation.

"I turned back around almost as soon as we got there," Anna replied shyly. John noticed that her cheeks flushed a little. "I wanted to finish my book tonight instead."

Although John did not believe that excuse for a minute, his concern for Anna came first. "So you walked back here alone? In the dark?"

Anna found herself stunned at his concern and her insides positively melted. "I'm a big girl, Mr Bates."

"Regardless, anything could have happened."

"Well, I'm here now. And I'm glad; otherwise I fear I'd never have discovered you played." Anna motioned once again to the piano, and John knew that it would become increasingly difficult not to share at least some of his past with her.

Ah well, he thought. If he replied vaguely, he could leave most of his comments up to implications.

"I used to work in a pub," he responded truthfully. "I found I had a lot of time to practice."

"When did you first learn?"

John smiled to himself at her questions, aware that she was not forcefully asking questions about his past that she was vaguely aware of, but knew he did not want to bring up in their conversations.

"A fair few years after my time in the war."

Anna watched him carefully for a few moments, fully aware that he was not disclosing everything that he knew. But her silence was soon broken with her small, pleading voice as she stepped forward, "Do you think you could teach me?"

John, as he watched her step forward, widened his smile in amusement. "Anna, I'm afraid I don't play well enough to –"

"Please," she continued, reaching his side. "It doesn't have to be a lot, just a bit here and there."

How could he resist those eyes? They bore down on him from her unusual position above, and from this position he found an alternate, yet no less beautiful, view of her hair. Loose strands had emerged after her walk home and they hung around her delicate face, that small wave enough to make him want to see more. John had seen her hair down only once or twice, the time when she was ill and he had taken her a tray of food being one of them. To run his hands through her blonde tresses was one of the few desires he held.

Giving in to her pleas, John nodded.

Anna smiled gleefully, turning briefly to pull one of the chairs from underneath the table and bring it beside him.

Once Anna was comfortably seated, John turned back to the piano and decided to start from the very beginning. "Now, firstly," John began, shifting himself on his seat and earning a rather bemused giggle from Anna. He turned and looked at her incredulously, seeing her bemusement and he decided to play along a little, "I should remind you, Miss Smith, that I'm doing you a favour here. I expect you to be on your best behaviour."

John watched as Anna's lips curved into an even wider smile, holding her hands up in surrender. "You have my wholehearted and absolute concentration, _Mr _Bates."

He smiled at her warmly and then turned, letting his right thumb hover over middle C. John slowly began to explain, "And this key is known as middle C. If you let your right thumb hover over it, you can move your other fingers to play the other notes."

Anna was watching him intently, this being a perfect excuse to keep her gaze fixed upon his hands.

"The white keys go from note G to A, like this," John explained, moving his hand to the right. "Do you see how my hands move?" Anna gave a non-committal murmur. As his hand moved right, John's arm stretched across her front, and Anna revelled in their close proximity. "Now, do you think you could do that?"

Anna turned her head and nodded slowly, the disappearance of his hands the primary reason. Placing her right thumb on the key he had shown her before, she began to move her hand until she reached the note he had called A and then pressed her thumb down on that key. The alteration of her hand that had to take place, since she was still using the one, proved the most difficult part and the fluidity to her movement stopped abruptly.

Bates, however, sensing her difficulty, reached his hand across and placed it across her own. He heard her breathing hitch, and he would have been a liar if he argued that their skin-on-skin touch had not affected him in a similar way. But, cautious and wary of their situation, he adopted a purely tutorial attitude and moved her hand, letting his hand guide her across the keys. "A little more like this," John instructed, his breathing becoming uncontrollably heavy.

She was so close to him. He could smell her – that sweet mixture that left him dizzy on most occasions, the combination of a natural fragrance and Lady Mary's perfume. She was the perfect balance. John told himself that he would have kept himself under control had it not been for Anna's hand stopping altogether – he could feel the cease of her movements, he could hear her heavy breathing.

"Anna," he breathed, whispering almost so that he wasn't even sure if she had heard.

But when her head turned to face him, bringing their faces ever so close together, he knew that she had.

Anna's blue eyes searched his own, widening slightly, almost begging and imploring him to close the distance between them.

John swallowed nervously, but made the decision in that split second that he would lean forward and finally close the distance between their lips. As he dipped his head and leant down, however, a loud clatter from the back door filled their ears, and the valet and the housemaid jumped apart.

Both turned their heads towards the doorway to find their work colleagues filing through, some in a slightly more dishevelled state than others. Clearly the rain had fallen and caught them all on their return home.

"It's pouring down!" Gwen exclaimed, brushing herself down in an attempt to warm up.

"I'm soaked to the skin!" Daisy exclaimed.

In the midst of their complaints, none of them noticed as Anna and Bates rose from their respective seats by the piano and stood around the dinner table. Anna immediately immersed herself in a conversation with Gwen and Daisy, asking about their time in the village and complaining with them about the state of their dress.

Bates hung back a little, his eyes watching as Anna floated around the room, imagining the course his actions would have taken if their colleagues had come inside only a minute later. He physically ached as he watched her lips: as they rose to smile at her friends; as they moved in animation as the others retold the events of the evening.

"Oh, and Anna," Mrs Hughes called to her, and then addressed John too. "The girls should be back in an hour or so, along with his Lordship, Mr Bates."

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes." The two of them replied simultaneously, causing them to look at each other, amused.

"I should go and change," Anna announced, she having changed a little earlier to go into the village.

As she disappeared down the corridor Bates followed her with his eyes, although not subtle enough.

"I hope we didn't interrupt the two of you," Miss O'Brien's voice sounded from the gathering, accusing and cynical and aimed at Mr. Bates.

But John had grown adept at responding to her comments, "And what would you have been interrupting, Miss O'Brien?"

"You tell me." O'Brien shared a conspiring glance with Thomas.

"Now, I think that's quite enough of that," Mrs. Hughes interrupted as Bates was about to respond again. "Now, Miss O'Brien, do you not have any of Lady Grantham's mending to do? I recall you were fixing a dress of hers earlier today."

O'Brien subtly scoured and furrowed her eye brows but nodded and turned to continue her work.

"I trust you had a quiet evening, Mr. Bates," Mrs Hughes addressed him when the servants' hall had dispersed.

"Very, Mrs Hughes," Bates replied with a smile. "I believe Mr Carson has lost himself in his silver."

Mrs Hughes visibly rolled her eyes affectionately, although Bates could not determine whether that was aimed at him or the butler. "I better go and check on him, and you'll do well not to retaliate with Miss O'Brien."

The wise housekeeper shared a secret look with Bates, and he found himself unable to stop his own smile spreading across his lips.

"Just you two mind yourselves around Mr Carson."

And with that, she left to find the old butler.

* * *

Bates had hovered around in the servants' hall until Lord Grantham called for him. Anna had not been back downstairs since going to change. Lady Mary, Lady Edith and Lady Sybil had returned with the family a little earlier than Mrs Hughes had expected, and as usual it took Anna quite some time to tend to all of the girls properly.

After dressing Lord Grantham and returning to the hall to find that Anna had still not made an appearance, he decided to make a pot of tea and wait for her. He was sat at the table for ten more minutes before Anna made an appearance in the doorway, and she smiled at him. Everyone else had long since gone to bed, none of them had a workload the size of Anna's during the evening and Mrs Hughes had locked the doors not fifteen minutes ago.

"I wasn't sure if you'd still be up."

"And miss out on our tradition?" Bates pushed the pot of tea forward a little on the table, signalling that this was what he meant.

"It seems our _tradition _has been on hiatus for several weeks." Anna challenged him, smiling.

"Even more reason to be down here," Bates retaliated as she approached her seat and he began pouring her a cup.

Anna bit her lip, her mind wandering back to earlier that evening. As she sat down beside him, all she could think of was _that _moment. The moment he had almost kissed her.

"It might be a good thing you came back when you did, the others look as though they're ready to catch a cold." John commented as he passed Anna her cup, filling the silence of the hall.

"There were more pressing matters to be dealt with here," Anna bit her lip as soon as the words had come out of her mouth. She knew that a lot of their relationship had culminated from the masking of words, speaking of the longings of their hearts but never directly admitting they were. A moment when the two had been preparing Lady Edith's bedroom sprang to Anna's mind, around the time when she had first confessed her love on the way to the flower show.

Anna could hear as his breath hitched and silently found herself flattered that she seemed to have such an impact on him. She thought back to their almost kiss, and how he had left her almost breathless at just a touch of his hand. No one had ever made her feel that way, not even when her twelve-year-old self had believed she was in love with James Wells when he had asked her to their school dance. His hands were hot, clammy and had made her feel uncomfortable around other people, whereas _his _hands made her feel safe and, even though he would never admit it under his unfortunate restrictions, loved. They had never been able to hold hands publically, but Anna was adamant that whenever, in the future, they were at liberty to do so, she would never be wary of doing so, and would hold it with pride.

"Anna…"

"You nearly kissed me…" Anna trailed off, sounding almost desperate for him to relieve her mind of its torture.

"And I was wrong to, I would have taken a liberty that is not mine to take."

"But what if I wanted you to?" Anna asked, her voice weakening but her resolve not crumbling.

"The question need not be answered." John swallowed carefully, watching as her beautiful, blue eyes fell to the cup and saucer, finding some peculiar interest in the inanimate crockery. "I'm not a free man yet, Anna. To promise you anything of a future would be unfeeling of me. I know nothing of my wife's whereabouts – can't you see it would be cruel?"

Anna swallowed, aware that he was right.

"Do not mistake me," John continued. "I long for that day more than I have longed for anything in my life." He reached across and took her left hand, wrapping his fingers around her own, almost to reassure her that these words came from the very depths of his soul, and that only she could bring them into the open after he had vowed to keep them there until he could speak and love her freely. "It's almost as though I lived in a fog of misery until I came to Downton, to you."

Anna's lip trembled as she tightened her hold around his hand, listening to his words as though her life depended on it. She would memorise these words and replay them in her head until the day he could speak of his love directly; freely.

Anna was so absorbed in listening to him that she failed to notice him lifting her hand, closer to his lips. She only stopped and looked at him when his movements stopped.

John stopped for a moment to look at her, almost reassuring himself, before he slowly brought her ring finger closer to his lips, letting them meet the skin that would one day be home to a ring – a ring to symbolise their love, to declare and shout it to the world.

Though he was silent in these actions, Anna fully understood and reciprocated in the promise he was making, even if those words she longed to hear would not yet leave his lips. She sighed, letting her eyes close as the tears fell down her cheeks.

When his lips had left her skin Anna left little time for him to move away before she brought her right hand to cup his cheek. His eyes instantly warned her, but she silently pleaded with him to trust her – he did.

Anna then leant forward and slowly, carefully, moved her lips to the side of his mouth. It was not proper to be kissing his lips, but she found the closest piece of skin on his cheek to the lips she longed to feel and kissed him. Whilst it would appear chaste to anyone else who happened to stumble upon them, the length of time in which Anna remained in that position spoke of a kiss that was anything but chaste. It was her promise that she would wait, just as he had given her his. She felt his hand squeezing hers comfortingly, the pad of his thumb rubbing the back of her hand as she composed herself. Whilst Anna knew he could not speak of his intentions until he had found his wife; that he felt it would compromise her in society, it was her decision to make these promises, to stand beside him through whatever should be thrown at them, and she found there was nothing to lose. She had already been _unladylike _and declared her love for him – she had already crossed those roads.

Barely moving her lips from his cheek, she whispered softly against his skin, allowing herself to speak of their promise, their future. To one day vow to love him, hold him, start a family and share in a happiness she would feel with no other, "One day."

* * *

**A/N: **Although it did look as though they would kiss (and there were other versions where this happened) I do believe that it didn't happen before their almost-kiss in episode six, and after reading the original script where they do kiss and Bates' preceding speech I decided to end it like this. I also think that, whilst Anna was aware of their situation, she would have taken some instances to reassure him of her love, even if he must remain silent in his promises. Damn Vera Bates. Inspiration for the title and most of the story came from Billy Joel's _Piano Man_.


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